Parties and Partings
by Lamanth
Summary: ONE SHOT – You can spend you days daydreaming over things that will never happen, but sometimes the dream comes true. Kai/MingMing Lemon


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Beyblade or any of its characters, merchandise, TV rights, ect… (I think you get the point.) Nor do I own the song 'Here's Where The Story Ends' by Tin Tin Out Feat. Shelley Nelson.

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Summery 

ONE SHOT – You can spend you days daydreaming over things that will never happen, but sometimes the dream comes true. Kai/Ming-Ming Lemon

Like all of my work this is just something that happened to float through the empty void inside my head. Like it or hate it please R and R as honest opinions are always welcomed as are random acts of worship.

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Lamb: Well her it is, the monster fic as one person knows it is done at last. Yeah I know it took me long enough and I'm still not all together happy with it, but I've pulled it apart and put it back together more than enough.

**Muse:** Boy is that the understatement of the century.

_Dedi:_ Will someone please drop a house on him already.

Lamb: Yeah please. Now Dedi do your thing.

_Dedi:_ Right this fic is dedicated to **shadowphoniex101** for two reasons. One; she went though a down patch recently and this is just our way of letting her know that Lamb and I are always here for her, and Muse too if she wants to hit something. Two; before her down patch Lamb went through a down patch of her own and Nix was just really supportive through out the whole thing, we love you so much girl. So **shadowphoniex101 **this is for you.

Lamb: As always sorry for any bad spelling and if you feel the need to through thing at me please wait until I've hidden behind the sofa kay!?

M**use: **On with the fic!

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_It's raising my adrenaline,  
You're banging on a heart of tin,  
Please don't make too much of it baby,  
You say the word 'forevermore',  
That's not what I'm looking for,  
All I can commit to is 'maybe',_

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**Parties and Partings**

There was a feral gleam in Queen's dark orbs as she gave a mocking salute and diapered out the door following in the wake of the silver haired male.

"And then there were none." Ming-Ming sighed and turned to assess the how much damage the party had inflicted on the house. Observing the path of the bluenetts eyes, Salima also turned to survey the room: plastic cups were everywhere, multi-coloured streamers littered the floor and helium filled balloons bobbed in random clusters on the vast ceiling.

"We'll give you a hand." The redhead satiated simply hooking a finger in the loop on her pale blue jeans, while beside her Hilary nodded in agreement while trying to stifle a yawn.

"No." Ming-Ming said with a shake of her head that sent blue ringlets bouncing. "You go to bed, it can wait till tomorrow."

"You sure?" Hilary questioned, casting a look at Salima and then to the door, on the other side of which was the main hallway and the staircase that would lead her to the bed that was calling out to her.

"Quite sure." She said jerking her head in the direction of the double doors. "You two go, I'll go up in a minuet." Salima nodded in assent and taking her lover by the hand led her from the room, leaving the azure haired female standing alone in the centre of the highly polished floor.

The place really was a tip she reflected, but she had been lucky and the party had stayed confined to the ballroom, though that was probably because you could fit an inter army detachment comfortably within its walls. Sighing without reason she wondered out the room and re-entered a moment later carrying a handful of black bags, yes it could wait till tomorrow but she didn't feel like sleeping and if she was up she might as well make a start on the clearing up. Empty bottles clinked musically as they were dropped into an open bag. There were definitely benefits to having rich parents, or rather parent, and that was a blow that still stung her heart deeply for in her opinion her mother had been far to young and full of life to die so young. As for her father, again there was a sigh heartfelt but none the less affectionate, it was that he was unkind just absent mined, he seemed to live for the most part inside his own head.

She felt her short denim skirt ride up as she bent to tie the top of one bag and open a fresh one, and rolled her honey eyes when she tugged it down as realised it was just her imagination playing tricks on her. But as she had said there were benefits and tonight was a prime example. Her father was out of the country for some reason or another, and had left specific instructions when he departed. "I don't mind what you do, just be responsible and try stop anything getting broken."

Maybe that was why she'd never felt she'd had to push the boundaries her parents had set for her, because they had always let her have freedom as long as she took responsibility for her actions. They had encouraged and supported her in whatever she had set her mind to, up to and including her wish to join the BEAG association. And so she did so and when things had gone wrong she had had no one to blame but herself. But there had been an upside to the whole fiasco, and that was the friends she otherwise would in all likely hood never had met.

The friends who had left party streamers all over her floor. There were hundreds, no more like thousands, of the brightly coloured paper strands she had no idea where they could had all come from. Then a memory of Daichi and Kevin standing on chairs setting off party poppers over anyone who went through the doors, until people were taking it at a dead run. Not a good thing to do on a highly polished parka floor when you are, what was it Migule had said? Oh yeah, mad as a hornet and drunk as a skunk. That had been mere moments before Mariam sprinted through in sock clad feet slipped and landed with a thump on her ass.

The grin of recollection spread across her face just as she happened to look up and catch sight of her reflection in the glass door leading onto the garden. Reflection, Johnny had been so pissed he had almost tried to pick a fight with his own reflection. The more he drank the more pronounced his Scottish accent became, until the only one who could understand a word he was saying was Matilda, who explained it wasn't because she was more used to it than everyone else it was because he was talking like a Nac Mac Freegle. Whatever one of those was, Matty had been too giggly to say and had then spent the rest of the night trying to get Johnny to say 'sheep' for reasons she hadn't been inclined to tell anyone.

Over all it had been a good night even if some people didn't agree. Hiro had been off hand with everyone stating that he had only come because Brooklyn had wanted to and he wasn't going to let him go on his own. Brooklyn had then snapped that if Hiro didn't want to be here then he should just fuck off already, and stalked off to dance dragging Ming-Ming along behind him. She had had to repeatedly bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing as they danced. for the whole time the redhead had kept one moss green eye on the older male in case he should take Brooklyn's advice and 'just fuck off already' both men were too possessive for their own and one anther's good. But for now they were happy and surly that was all that mattered, being happy in the moment.

She herself was happy wasn't she? Finally things seemed to be going well for her, she had friends who cared about her. Three years on both she and her father were learning to cope with her mothers passing. Yes, everything was starting to go well. The one exception was … she yelped suddenly startled. The C.D. that had been playing in the background had come to an end and the stereo had suddenly clicked and whirred as the next C.D. was atomically selected. It was this abrupt harsh click that had broken her train of thought and caused her heart to race.

She moved towards the sound system, her hand outstretched to turn it off. She had meant to turn it off but the notes floating into the air were familiar are her own body. It was an old mix C.D. twenty or so tracks she had recorded over the years, and at that moment when the horizon was tingeing grey with the approach of dawn it felt right for her music to drift in the warm still air.

"Narcissus." She mocked, as she turned and picked up the discarded bin bag, before unconsciously starting to sing along with her own voice.

_People I know, places I go,_

_Make me feel tongue-tied, _

_I can see how people look down, _

_They're on the inside,_

_Here's where the story ends, _

_People I see, weary of me, _

_Showing my good side, _

_And I can see how people look down, _

_I'm on the outside, _

_Here's where the story ends, _

_Oh here's where the story ends,_

Her mind drifted once more as her body ran on auto pilot, picking up disposable plastic cups and tossing them into the waiting bag. What had she been thinking of …? Oh yes, the one exception, Kai Hiwatari. A smile touched her lips, affectionate but also resigned. They had been dancing round each other on and off for almost a year, since the downfall of BEGA, both of them unwilling to say how or what they felt for the other. And now it was too late, for in the morning he would be boarding a plane and flying back to Russia, possibly for good, and as always she had no one to blame but herself. She had been attracted to him from the moment she first set eyes on him, not in that sappy love at first sight kinda of way, but she had been forced to admit the guy was serious eye candy.

He was slim without being skinny, muscular without looking like one of those guys who pump iron all day long or are dosing on steroids. He was tall with amazingly beautiful clear crimson eyes that looked as if they could see into your soul. Flawless ivory, skin with those distinctive royal blue tattoos on each cheek, the crisp triangles always put her in mind of shark fins for some reason. And his hair, which was that unusual two, shades of blue, navy and slate the colours of a stormy sea. She shook her head as if trying to clear is and reached for an empty bottle, her imagination was starting to run away with her, sharks fins and stormy seas. Stooping to pick up a handful of coloured paper she rose to fast and alcohol filled blood rushed to her head. There was a definite aquatic theme to her musings though, maybe it she was subconsciously trying to tell herself something, such as Kai had gills.

_It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, _

_Which makes my eyes feel sore, _

_And I never should have said the books that you read, _

_Were all I loved you for, _

_It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, _

_Which makes me wonder why, _

_It's the memories of the shed, _

_That make me turn red, _

_Surprise, surprise, surprise,_

O-K! Ming-Ming thought as she giggled slightly hysterically, I've had way to much to drink. But she couldn't resist following the thought further, gills, maybe on the side on his neck like in the fifth Harry Potter film it would explain why he wore that scarf so much. But no, she had seen his neck, very kissable and totally gill free it was too, so possibly down his sides lying over his ribs. She shuddered at the idea, but it was like a toothache it hurt but you had to keep poking at it. It might be useful not always having to breath through your mouth or nose. Sniggering while she tried to push away the mental pictures, yep Kai with gills was a waist to the heterosexual community.

That was enough, standing up she pressed the heals of her hands to her eyes, pushed until pain sparked in her head and white lights danced on the backs of her eyelids. Composure regained she picked up the bag she had dropped and continued scooping up empty party popper cases, what did it matter anyway in a few hours time he would be flying out of her life for good. So there was no point dwelling on him, and in her minds eye turning into some sort of perfect being who would have made all her dreams come true. He was intelligent there was no denying that, but underneath he was really just like her. Human, afraid of being hurt or rejected and so, like her never said what he really meant.

Crazy, I know, places I go,

Make me feel so tired,

And I can see how people look down,

I'm on the outside,

Here's where the story ends,

Oh here's where the story end,

Once more she began to sing in harmony with her own voice, but her mind remained focused on the Russian, seemingly unwilling to let her thoughts dwell on things of less consequence. She would have liked him to have been her first, but that was a dream that was now faded. Reaching for a plastic cup she remembered wondering if she was stupidly saving herself for him, remembered the panic that she was letting the chance of happiness slip past because she was too caught up in a dream. However on close examination, she had come to realise this was not the case, she had simply never been bothered one way or the other. Too many times to count she had heard girls on the music scene boasting of how young they were when they lost their virginity and how many people they had slept with since. The whole thing had just made her sick, it wasn't that she was a prude, as some of the girls had said, it was just that she didn't think that you had to inform the whole world about your sex life.

She reached for an other bottle and finding it unopened removed the cap and took a long pull, sighing contentedly. It had never really bothered her that she was eighteen and still a virgin, sure it was maybe a little unusual, but having sex just for the sake of being able to say you had had never appealed to her. Frankly she had just never seen the point of worrying about it, the way she'd seen it was sooner or later it would happen and until the right time, the right guy came along she had other things to think about. She drained the bottle and dropped in the bag along with its comrades. But she couldn't deny that a part of her had hoped that Kai was going to be the right guy.

_It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, _

_Which makes my eyes feel sore,_

_And whoever would've thought the books that you bought, _

_Were all I loved you for, _

_And the devil in me said, go down to the shed I know where I belong, _

_But the only thing I ever really wanted to say, _

_Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong,_

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that at first the sound didn't register in her mind. Then suddenly under the beat of the music there is was; footsteps. She paused and listened as they got closer, they were not the light feminine steps that belonged to either of the two girls that were currently staying with her. No, the were heavier, without doubt the steps of a man.

For a moment she stood frozen to the spot an empty bottle clasped tightly in one hand not that is would do her much good if she was forced to use it as a weapon. The footfalls grew closer, entered the ballroom and faltered as she whirled to face the intruder, the bottles held out before her like a talisman to word off evil. Eyes widened in shock and the bottle almost slipped from her grasp she realised who was standing in the doorway.

"Kai!" Her voice was unnaturally high, as emotions churned within her; fear relief, excitement, curiosity and the age old attraction she always felt being near him. The four royal blue tattoos on his cheeks were standing out sharply against porcelain his skin, but it was his eyes that held her attention. Eyes that blazed like the pits of hell and kept her voice at its unaccustomed high pitch as she spoke.

"I thought you'd gone." He was dressed just as he had been earlier that night; black tank top like the one he had been warring in the photo Hilary had shown her, the one that had been taken after the Bladebreakers had one their first world title. Black baggy pants and the fingerless black gloves he never seemed to be without, he'd always looked so good in black, the dark colour contrasting with the flawless pale skin, the two sliver studs in his left ear and flowing white scarf. The scarf, he was warring it now though she could have sworn he hadn't been earlier.

"I forgot my jacket." His voice was cool and off hand, without a hint of emotion as he stood and observed her. The hair that had been wound into tight ringlets was loosening and falling over one shoulder of the short sleeved white shirt she wore, the tails of which she had tied together exposing her stomach. The short skirt of faded denim showed off to great effect the length of her leg, everyone had a preference and there was just something about long legs that did it for him.

"Oh … right." Her heart, which had leapt to her mouth, gave a disconcerting thump. "Can't have that it's probably got your passport in it or something." Her smile was tight as she turned her back on him and bent once more to the half full black bag her mind fogged with every detail of his appearance. The barb-wire effect tattoo was the latest addition, it curved around his right bicep like a black snake almost loving in its caress. In the few mounts since it had first appeared on his cool skin she had found herself become more deeply involved in fantasies about him with that tattoo as a starting point. She imagined that she would ask if it had hurt while running her fingers over the ink that now stained his flesh for eternity, before bending her head, kissing, licking and nipping at his smooth skin. Dragging herself back into reality she did not look at him when next he spoke.

"Yeah or something." His voice was a low mutter as he walked across the floor to where the jacket was lying on a chair. Snatching up the garment he turned and saw her once again absorbed in her work seemingly oblivious to his presence.

Silently she screamed at herself. What had she thought? That he'd come back for her? That he was going to brake the habit of a life time and say how he was feeling, say that he wanted to spend his last night here with her. As always she had no one to blame but herself, she was acting like a stupid little fool. She had always said that there were two kinds of people in this world; those who made things happened and those who watched things happened, she had always prided herself on being one of those who made things happened but now she was seriously rethinking that.

_It's that little souvenir of a terrible year, _

_Which makes me smile inside,_

So I cynically, cynically say, the world is that way

_Surprise, surprise, surprise, _

_Oh here's where the story ends, _

_Ooh here is where the story ends ooh,_

The song ended and quickly she crossed to the stereo and switched off the power before another song could call out to her. Before her voice once more filled the air and in some strange way mocked the mass of emotions swirling within her.

For a moment he stayed motionless, watched as she walked across the wide expanse of floor to the sound system bent slightly to flick the off switch and stood again. The waterfall of hair that hung down her back rippled as she moved back across the floor, never once looking at him. He wanted to reach out to her, take her in his arms and show her everything that had been building within he since they first met. But he didn't instead he gripped the jacket in his hand and walked swiftly through the door, and into the hall.

She heard his footsteps fade, felt his presence leave the room, but didn't not bend and continue to clear the room. Her heart was racing and she irritably pushed strands of hair back from her face as they fell into her eyes. Suddenly all the effort of the day crashed down upon her and abandoning the clearing up switched off the lights and made her way out off the ballroom. The light switches were positioned at the opposite end of the room to the double doors and so she was forced to walk the length of the polished floor in near total darkness.

Not a single light was now lit in the vast house and she thanked god that her night vision was good. She took several steps down the dark hallway and suddenly bit back a scream as a figure seemed to materialise before her. The darkness was so complete that she had not seen him until she had almost crashed into him, but even in that place so devoid of light she knew it him. Knew him by his way of standing perfectly still, and the faint winter sent that hung in the air surrounding him.

Why was he still there? She did not know nor could she find her voice to ask. Not knowing why she tried to step backwards and away from him, as if by putting a physical distance between them she could clear her head. But her foot, in its high heeled sandal, slipped and she stumbled and would have fallen but instead he reached out for her. Steadied her and held her close. She looked up into his face, in the darkness she could just make out his features; his mouth unsmiling almost stern and eyes that burned with thoughts she could not recognise.

He was perfection, yet broken too. Just as she herself was, with him the person you saw first was not the really person, it was the mask, the persona that was used to keep the world at bey. Never let anyone hold you for they could be looking for a good place to stick a knife. But he was holding her now, and words didn't seem to matter any longer, perhaps she had been looking at it the wrong way and they had never really needed to say anything to one another. The right time and the right guy.

He stroked her soft hair, pressed his full sensual mouth lightly against her forehead moved errant strands of azure blue back as he traced with brushing kisses the lines of her well known face, the deep set eyes and high cheekbones. Her wide honey orbs saw him new and unknown. At last he touched her up-reaching mouth with his, barely touched. Moved with a lingering intimate contact that seemed to stop time its self. All his exited waiting had been nothing compared to this silence in a touch that was gentle, so gentle. And she was lost with him in this discovery, the warm rushes of their mingled breath, this slow undemanding meeting.

The emptiness of separation dissolved in this meeting breath for breath. She touched his sensitive beautiful mouth, tracing her fingers around and in between their kiss. Her fingers searched the smooth lines of his face, his high forehead and over and over through his thick slate hair, curling and winding it around her sender fingers. The still touching of their lips changed in intensity until they seemed of one breath.

There was so much to find in each other. They sought within the truth of their bodies for the knowledge of who they were to one another, until finally, even that seeking, through the breath and hands ceased. He pulled back seeing her slightly dazed expression and then cupping her face in his hands moved to her again, covering her mouth and kissing the full depth of her as if trying to drink her down, until finally breathless they parted.

No words, not now. Things seemed to have progressed beyond that somehow without her having noticed, and even if they had not she doubted if she would have been able to make sense of the chaotic thoughts that swirled with in the confines of her mind. In the darkness her hand found his, and tugging gently stepped backwards towards the staircase. For one heart stopping second she thought he was going to draw away from her and leave her on her own, that all he had wanted was to know that he could have had her if he had so wanted. But then he was following her, his fingers interlacing with her own. She could feel the calluses on his palm and registered that he must have removed his gloves before she had made her way into the entrance hall.

Up the stairs and along the corridor. Past the closed door beyond which both Salima and Hilary were slumbering peacefully and on to the closed white door at the far end which was her own. Here she stopped but before she could reach for the handle he had placed his free hand upon her shoulder and turned her to face him. Again he kissed her savoured the sweetness of her lips, before demanded further access which she willingly gave and deepening the kiss.

He released her only when his need for oxygen become to grate to ignore longer. Turning back to the door she reached for the handle as a million voices screamed in her mind for her to stop and think about what she was doing. She stepped over the threshold but did not switch on the lights, the curtains were open and the light of the full moon painted the room in black and white. Was she really going to sleep with a man she had kissed for the first time only moments ago, the voices questioned. Stopping in the middle of the room she didn't notice when he closed and locked the door after them, to wrapped up in the realisation that had just struck her.

It was so strange never before had she felt uncomfortable in her own body, but now standing before him she felt afraid in her own skin. He was her first but she knew she was not his, and for the first time in her life she felt the need to hid her body from the view of another person. It was her room, her bed, her life and yet she felt as if she didn't belong and was in fact intruding on his space.

What was she thinking, it was wrong. The whole thing was wrong, wasn't it?

She hesitated, debated walking back out the door and pretending nothing had happened, but she couldn't help but watch as he unwound the long white scarf and let it fall from his hands. He straightened and strip off the black top, damp with a fine outline of sweat between the shoulders. The small silver ring that pierced his left nipple gleamed slightly in the pale moonlight and she could not tare her eyes away. She wanted to stay, she want to run, but she couldn't move and couldn't think either.

From somewhere in the midst of the voices screaming at her to stop what she was doing, another rose. A voice light and shinning, of a friend who had never once let her down; follow your heart. Then he was standing over he, a look in his flaming orbs that was almost tender and from that moment on nothing beyond him and that room existed for her anymore.

He kissed her then, long and slow at first, then his tongue licking hers like fire dancing in the dark. The heat rising inside her like a frenzied passion and she knew that she don't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

With deft fingers he unbuttoned her thin white shirt, pushed it over her shoulders and it slid to the floor even as he moved on to the fastening of her skirt. An involuntary shudder coursed through his body as her hands brushed his groin before she began tugging at his belt. The buckle dropped from her hands and without the belt to hold them up his baggy black pants slid swiftly to the floor and he stepped free of them and slipped his arms around her waist.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she dropped her eyes from his face unable to hold his gaze. Instead honey orbs watched her own trembling hands as they slowly traced over his skin. Hesitantly at first then with growing confidence, she traced the fait scars that adorned is pale flesh, skimmed the muscles outlined on his sculpted chest and abdomen and danced in light circles over hard nipples. The shinning ring felt cool and hard against the pads of her questing fingers, unable to resist the temptation she twisted the silver toy between her fingers and was reworded with a low hiss from him at the mingled sensations of pleasure and pain. Transfixed, she watched as her hands explored him, felt the soft skin move over taut muscle until her fingers crept up his neck and creased the line of his jaw. Only then did she dare look into his eyes once more.

His eyes were steady on her face as light blush coloured her cheeks, his hands slid up the curve of her back, fingers tracing the dip of her spine before coming to rest of the fastening of her pale mint green bra. With the ease of one who has done it many times before unaffected the clasp and slipped the satin straps from her shoulders and let the discarded item fall to the floor. A slow confident smile crossed his face as he ran his hands over the contours of her breasts causing a soft gasp to escape her lips.

Claming her mouth in a lingering kiss, he pushed down the French knickers that matched her bra, even as she was tugging persistently at his black boxer shorts. Completely naked now, he lead her to her own bed and giddied her down, never once braking the kiss which make her lips tingle as if and electric current was passing through them. He lay above her, bracing himself with his arms, his hands catching hers and holding them slightly above her.

The taste of cigarette smoke on his lips was an aphrodisiac as they kissed, still holing her arms outstretched, he kissed her eyes, her nose, every place he could reach. She shivered, tensed to the point of abstraction, but when he found the sensitive spot on the side of her neck and kissed it with smooth, dry lips, kisses light as a silk touch, the tension faded and she felt her body loosen to his touch.

He felt the shift in her mood immediately, and in one languid move knelt between her legs. Spreading them carefully, he kissed her inner thighs, the deliberateness of his movements sending tremors cascading down her spine. He stroke her legs, behind her knees, her calves, and the sureness of his caress lit her with desire. Her arms reached for him with a new urgency and her hips move to greet him but he move out of reach.

He knelt above her again as if surveying which limb to taste next. His fingers trace circles around her belly, up to her breasts, just missing the nipples each time so that they strain with added anticipation. Slowly, so slowly she succumbed to the method before she realise the intent, he captured her with his rhythm, a circular, hypnotic motion, traced lightly, then in gradually deepening touch on her body.

She lay still save for the spasms that came involuntarily from deep within her. She felt as though storm clouds were racing across some internal landscape, accumulating over one precise point in her body. His lips found her nipples and bolts of electricity flash though them; her gasp echoes like thunder throughout her head. Whether he was still caressing her body, or whether she had taken up and continued the rhythm he created she could not tell. She didn't want to decide, wouldn't stop to discover.

He moves from nipple to belly to throat, his hands cupping her breasts as he sucks electric excitement from her. His hands slide along her sides slick with the heat created from the passion crimsoning her face. He was everywhere at once and she, delirious with sensation, felt the last vestiges of her earth bound rational mind float away.

He built the pace only to stop; she was caught mid-breath, opening her heavy lidded eyes she could see his face above her. He blow cool air on her breasts and neck, taking his time, smiling slightly. Her eyes slide shut once more and she sensed rather than saw him watch the perspiration dry on her skin.

He made his way slowly down her body until once more he crouched between her legs. Her still ragged breathing was slower now. He unfolded himself, stretching his legs out behind him, guiding her further down the bed. Kneeling before her he studied her secret folds. Propped on her elbows their eyes met and lock in a communication of unspoken understanding. She knew that desire and uncertainty must be evident in her own eyes, but she was transfixed by his crimson orbs that promised untold ecstasy. Finally, the air heavy with the inevitably of pleasure, he lowered his head toward her throbbing center.

He spread her glistening lips with his tongue in one smooth, sure upwards movement, and her shoulders drop to the bed. Again his tongue caressed her, this time with just a hint of a flicker around her center, and her body answered with a quick jump of the nervous system. Repeating the movement, a simple direct line, this time ending in a definite twist of his sharpened tongue.

She caught her breath, not daring to breath. Each stroke, never rough or rushed, promised more, assured fulfillment. With infinitely small movements, the pattern begins to shift. Arms slide under her legs, fingers grasp her hips, shoulders press her thighs apart. Tongue, smooth chin, lips; each explore the wet inner reaches of her folds.

Her hips rock as his tongue's strokes become stronger, surer. He builds the pace to a high peck, yet each time he deliberately stops before she can burst with excruciating pleasure. Each time he started again, the beginning was of such a height that she can't imagine what reaches are to come. Her volition spent, she gave herself over to his will, abandoning all expectation, all reason.

Wanting more, needing more. She reached out for him pulling him up and close feeling him hard and full against her softness. Now again he paused, only this time she can see the hesitation as he searched her face for any sign of uncertainty. Her breath was coming in deep surges, her arms drew him closer and her body arched with a subtle demand. He pressed gently yet firmly in to her folds, pressed deeper then holted hearing her muffled cry. For a moment behind her eyes it flashed red and then cooled, and then he moved again. She was startled at the intensity of the rings of fire dancing and whirling within her core, and she though that maybe she could ride the edge of these flames till the end of time.

This time the roaring came from a hidden place deep within her. An eruption of white heat that travelled through the arteries and sinews of her thighs, across her back, leaping with a cry from her throat and exploding from the top of her head. Echoes crashed through her, her body experiences and remembers simultaneously, and each memory triggered a chain reaction of new pleasure. Her sweat mixed with tears that he kissed from her cheeks with his sticky, musky lips. His hand reaches for the point at which their bodies connect and held her until the tremors quiet.

He lay full next to her, and pulled her to him so that her head was pillowed on his chest. They pressed themselves tightly together, listening to the passing storm recede. They lay very still, amazed at their creation, that their bodies were a channel for so much that would, by consensus, remain unspoken.

"I'm due to be on a flight in a few hours…" His sentence trailed off as he looked at the top of her head, she would not raise her face to look at him. Instead she continued to watch as her fingers trailed in abstract patterns over the faint scars on the planes of his chest.

"And you'll be on it." And then she did look at him, her eyes where dark liquid pools that could have drowned him if he had looked to long into their depths. "I wouldn't want you to stay just because you felt you had to, and your life is there not here. Not with me."

She spoke with wisdom beyond her years, and he remembered that it was the pretty packaging that had caught his attention, but her charm and intelligence that had kept him captive. Her eyes dropped from his face, and to her shame she felt a single crystalline tear slip from the corner of her eye and roll down her cheek. She moved her hand to brush it away, but his was there first, cupping her chin in his hand as the pad of his thumb brushed the salt droplet from golden skin.

For a split seconded she looked deep into crimson orbs before her eyelids shut as his mouth captured hers. Nothing rushed or hurried, just a gentle pressure, a caress, a kiss of a lover, of someone who cared. He pulled back and watched her face as she slowly came back down to earth, watched her eyes flutter once or twice before she focused on him in the semidarkness.

The expression on his face was unreadable when at last he spoke. He drew close so that his lips were almost touching her own bruised ones, his warm breath was a feather light caress. "I'll come back. I promise you, I'll come back."

Then there was no longer any space between their lips, no space between their bodies as he manoeuvred her to lie beneath him.

She woke, slowly swimming to the surface of conciseness. She had dozed, or believed she had. It was quiet, awoken by the silence, or rather by the breaking of that silence by a familiarity she could not at first place. She lay very still to see if she heard what she had thought she had. A foot fall, light and soft unhurriedly making its way to her room. A gentle tap on the door and the curvaceous redhead entered carrying a steaming mug in on hand. This she placed on the bedside table closest to the still sleep addled bluenett, before seating herself on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks, what time is it?" Ming-Ming's voice was think and heavy as she rubbed sleep from her eyes with the back of one hand and reached for the tea with the other.

"Almost one o'clock." Salima said stretching, her beautiful heart shaped face was clear showing not a trace of the late night. "We saw you done most of the clearing up as we thought you could use the sleep."

"Oh… Thank-you." Her words were almost to faint to be heard and caused the silver eyed female to turn to look at her, worry evident on her face. But it was lost on the girl still curled under the covers, her free hand fisted in the white sheet until her knuckles cracked and with the other she carefully placed the full back on the table beside the bed.

"Mimi?" A pale elegant hand reached out and brushed the bangs from honey eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." It was a gasping confirmation, and she tried to smile as she nodded. "I'm fine." Almost one. Her stomach gave a sick lurch, his flight had been at eleven and she had lain asleep while he flew far from her. She had known it would hurt letting go but she had never expected there would be so much pain, pain as if her heart was being smashed to pieces.

"You should go back to sleep. Leave everything to me and Hils OK?" Once again there was a nod, and Salima rose from the bed trying to think what could be distressing her friend so much, but could come up with no answer. As was her habit, Salima let her hand trail along the ornate frame work of the bottom of the bed, the curved black metal feeling smooth and cool under her touch.

Ming-Ming raised her head when she heard the older girl gasp softly. One hand was resting on the foot of the bed, fingers almost hidden in the folds of thick white material. Material of a garment that was instantly as familiar to the bluenett as it had been to her companion.

Salima looked from the fabric beneath her fingers to the face of the girl looking at her. The golden skin was unusually pale with dark marks, like sooty thumb prints, under her eyes and pain and confusion were clearly written in every feature.

"Oh." Understanding dawned, and unbidden a shiver ran through Salima as she imagined how the girl must feel. With deft hands she unwound the scarf from where it hung and walked round the bed and handing it to the child who was now trembling. Grasping the soft white fabric tight in both hands Ming-Ming lay still as, like a mother, her older friend tucked the sheets round her and instructed her to sleep.

"He promised to come back." She sounded so small, such a far cry from the girl that Salima knew, that acting on instinct the redhead brushed stray hairs from the girl's face and kissed her on the forehead.

Large dark orbs looked up desperately searching her face for verification. A soft smile touched light pink lips as Salima rearranged a sheet to her liking, and she was glad she knew Kai as well as she did. "He always keeps his promises."

* * *

Lamb: Well there you have it. The longest oneshot I've ever written and probably ever will write. I hope you liked it my wonderful and amazing Nix, you mean so much to me.

**Muse:** I am drowning in the sap.

_Dedi:_ Then do it quietly. Please let us know what you thought and **shadowphoniex101** hope you liked it.

Please R and R I'd love to know what you thought.

Big luv see ya

Lamanth


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